


Always

by miss_variety



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Waiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-04 23:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_variety/pseuds/miss_variety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas fic. John waits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> _Imported from my LJ account where it was originally posted._
> 
> _Slightly alludes to Reichenbach, but not intended._
> 
> _Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is not mine._

John stood at one of the windows of 221b Baker Street, a glass of mulled wine cradled in his hands. Lifting the drink to his lips, he took a slight sip of the scalding liquid and then withdrew the glass as the wine traced a burning path down his throat, warming his cool body. The flat was silent. Outside the streetlamps were lit, their brightness only muffled by the dark which seemed to inhabit each crevasse of the street. Cabs were scarce, only the one made its way down the road whilst John stood watching, headlights illuminated and reflected the glassy sheen of the frost covered road.

The lamp in the sitting room of Baker Street was lit but John’s face was in shadow. The only play of light across his features was from the Christmas lights that twinkled on the tree stood in one corner of the room. 

John Watson stood militarily straight in the window; his face was shuttered, closed.

His eyes focused on the street below him. He licked his lips once, twice, and then blinked as a tall figure appeared at the top of the street. Fingers tightened on the warm glass he held as his eyes now tracked the progress of the lone figure down on street level. Not once did the black clad man glance up at the windows of the flat, only to check for cars before crossing the road. John watched until he was physically no longer able to do so, as the man disappeared from sight.

John closed his eyes.

He could hear the door to 221 open and close. It didn’t slam. It was pushed back into his jamb with a surprisingly controlled action. He could hear as a pair of feet walked up the seventeen stairs to the flat. They began fast paced, but gradually slowed as they neared the top until they alighted and stopped outside the room to B-flat of the house.

John kept his eyes closed.

He could hear as the handle was turned, as the door swung open. Footsteps entered the room slowly, and… there, the door was closed again. This time, tumblers slid into place as it was locked. John stood still as the footsteps grew nearer to his spot until suddenly there was someone at his back, tall, warm, and alive. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s still body and drew him in, tucking John’s head into the crook of his neck and kissing his temple. John opened his eyes to watch their conjoined reflections in the window as Sherlock hugs him closer and kisses down his neck.

John stared at the window,

“I didn’t know if you’d make it back in time.”

His throat was constricted; he choked a little as he spoke. Sherlock halted and lifted his eyes to meet John’s in the window.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would- I thought-“

“Shhh.”

John hushes as he turns to face the lanky detective stood behind him, mulled wine placed on the windowsill, palm cupping Sherlock’s face.

“You were gone two weeks. But you’re here now. That’s all that matters. Okay?”

Sherlock nods and kisses John’s palm.

“It’ll happen again, you know it will. I just... get wrapped up and-“

“I don’t want you to change. I love you just the way you are, so stop all this nonsense.”

Sherlock smiles and leans forwards, touching their lips together softly in a burning kiss.

“I missed you.” Sherlock rumbles, foreheads touching.

“I should bloody well hope so.” John replied, smiling, but his face sobers and clouds, “It’s Christmas Eve, I almost thought you’d miss it.”

Sherlock frowns and places his hand at the back of John’s neck, brushing a thumb over his cheek.

“I'll always come back for you.”

Later they relocate to the sofa. Covered in a blanket, with a roaring fire set, they doze quietly whilst wrapped up in each other and barely hear the ticking of a clock as it resets to a new day.

_fin_


End file.
